No, I don’t mean “time is hilarious.” Time is… peculiar.

This morning, as I was getting dressed, I looked at my forearm as it emerged from my sleeve and thought, “That looks like the forearm of an old man.” At 50, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me to have revelations like this, but it honestly surprised me. I stared at my arm blankly for a minute, thinking of the inevitability of the aging process, and the peculiar manifestation of it in the texture of that region of skin.

You’re History

Ten years ago, in 2002, I was not yet writing this blog. My mom had passed away in 2000, but my dad was alive and living with my sister in Georgia. I think Mom’s passing was one of the milestones that caused me to look in the mirror and say, “You’re on your own now. You can’t go running to Mom anymore for advice about how to live your life.”

The truth is, I really had leaned on Mom for advice over the years. Most of what I know (or think I know) about parenting, came straight from Mom. (The rest of it came from watching Mom and Dad. Dad wasn’t particularly verbal about parenting issues, at least with me, until the last five or six months of his life.) In contrast, Dad was someone who I saw as a “meaning of life” counsellor. Back in 2002, I didn’t lean on him for that kind of advice nearly as much as I should have.

Now, as I look in the mirror, I see more of Dad in the various aging signs of my body. I see Crow’s Feet and age spots that resemble his, and occasionally telltale signs like the aforementioned wrinkles in the skin of my forearm. I also see signs of stress, the loss of naiveté’, thousands of lessons learned, and more than a few sleepless nights.

Your History

Five years ago, in 2007, I had just started blogging, perhaps out of feeling a sense of mortality. What drove me to do so? Was it the arrogance of thinking that I possessed some collection of wisdom or truth that had somehow escaped others?

Actually, I think it was a realization that I wished I had listened more to things that Dad had said (or wanted to say), but that I had never taken the time to hear. I felt the need to capture, if for nobody else than my sons, some of the things that I always wanted to discuss with my Mom and Dad. I wanted to put down, in as permanent a form as possible, stories and lessons, observations and ideas, and all manner of things that I felt my sons might one day want to read. I wanted to answer, in advance, some of the questions that they might wish they’d asked, at some future date when I might not be there (or might not be able) to answer.

In the (generally forgettable) “I, Robot” with Will Smith, there is an interesting scene where Spooner (Will Smith) holds a conversation with Dr. Alfred Lanning (James Cromwell). The device Spooner uses to carry on this conversation projects a hologram of Lanning, and can respond interactively in Lanning’s voice and with his gestures, but only with the relatively limited information that Lanning programmed in.

It occurred to me a few years ago that this is what this blog is. This blog is a device for communicating, to those who would ask, the various things I thought about and felt strongly enough about to capture within a post here.

To be sure, a blog like this is a redacted version of my thoughts and feelings. This may capture the “text of my life,” but it quite obviously doesn’t state the subtext. I suppose one could argue that, with this blog in-hand and a decent knowledge of my life, you could figure out much of the subtext.

Along the way, I met some new people (other bloggers), found an audience (on occasion), and have compiled enough of my thoughts here to fill a book or two. (At least one book, “Don’t Blink,” a compilation of parenting tips and advice, will result from this.)

In Passing

Since I’ve started blogging, I’ve also lost several friends (including a fellow blogger or two). Where possible, I’ve gone back to read their Facebook pages, or their blogs. Sometimes, it’s not possible to read my friends’ thoughts anymore. My hope is that anyone whose life I’ve touched will be able to, if they choose, retroactively hear from me. This form of communication isn’t immortality, but it remains a way for express and demonstrate my love long after my passing.

You see, communication is what takes us from singular, isolated beings and makes us part of something larger than ourselves. When we choose to not communicate, and intentionally isolate or hide our thoughts and feelings from others, we become less. To be certain, we are safer, and not at risk of the pain when we withdraw and exclude. We also lose our ability to love and be loved.

My passing may bring an end to my ability to receive love, but why should it bring an end to me expressing it?

My son said, “Weirdos like my Dad,” with a laugh. While I appreciate the fact that not everyone has the desire to write a blog, I think everyone should. Here’s why:

1. Because it helps you verbalize/organize your thoughts/opinions
   a. Shape your opinions based on voices outside AND inside your own head, don’t be a “ditto-head”
   b. If you write for an audience that may not agree with you, you’ll make a more coherent argument
   c. In the process of organizing your thoughts, you’ll learn things you wouldn’t have otherwise
2. Because it contributes something
   a. Link to: http://www.herecomeseverybody.org/2008/04/looking-for-the-mouse.html
   b. Contributing anything helps us move out of a “consumerism mode”
3. Because it makes you a better writer
   a. The only way to get better at something is to do it, and by blogging, you get to write about what YOU think is important
   b. Over time, readers will discover what you’ve written and will give you feedback
4. Because it’s “live”
   a. In sharp contrast to TV, and in much the same way as we find with live theater, feedback from an audience (even if you don’t engage them in extended conversations) adds depth to the experience
   b. As people respond, if you engage them in discussion, you have the opportunity to learn even more, or possibly just expand further on a topic than you had originally thought was appropriate.

That, my friends, is why you should blog.

I hope you enjoy watching it (links below) as much as we had making it. Cheers!

As anyone who’s read this blog regularly has long since noticed, I took an unplanned hiatus from blogging during the last 5 months. This wasn’t so much of an intentional thing as it was a matter of me not feeling particularly inspired to write.

Some of this, I’m sure, had to do with a diffusion of my attention while I’d been engaged in a job search. (I eventually stopped searching for full-time work, and started an independent IT consulting company.)

Some of this is probably attributable to Facebook, and its tendency to draw you into engagement, even over trivial status updates (which is another form of micro-blogging, similar to Twitter tweets.) Some of my friends have suggested that there are other reasons.

One friend suggested that I’ve got some “unresolved anger” issues. This is probably true, but when I’ve stopped and considered the things that truly make me angry or frustrated, I can’t honestly say that they would have stopped me from venting here, or in some other forum. Instead, my anger and frustration seems to be with myself, and struggling with not having a strong enough sense of accomplishment in my life in the past few months.

Another friend insists that I’m just too busy, and allow too many things to creep into my life. There’s probably a bit of truth to this, but if I look back on my life, it’s hard to find a time when this wasn’t an observation shared by one or more friends.

However, lately I’ve felt refocused, for a variety of reasons. This past week, a particularly painful loss gave me time to reflect on a number of things, with the end result being renewed energy toward productivity, and toward people (as opposed to things).

I surely don’t know the number of days I have, nor the number of days to share with friends and loved ones. Some of those days will be cut short by death, and others, by choice.

What I do know is that I can consciously choose to invest myself in the ones who choose to be part of my life, which will enrich everyone in the process. To that end, this blog is a way for me to codify some of the many things I may not get a chance to share with you one-on-one, though that would be my preference if we both had enough hours in the day.

Who (not what) are you investing in, and why?

Fox News Story on Google

Unfortunately, if you click the link on Google, Fox News tells you that no such story exists. Is this yet another example of Fox News being “Fair and Balanced”? Did someone at the top see the link, and bury the story?

We’ll never know. If you search Fox News’ election site, you’ll find no such story exists anymore.

Interesting.

By the way, I have no idea why there’s a full minute of black at the end of this. If you sat around waiting for some kind of surprise at the end, I’m sorry for the disappointment. – Tim

]]> http://timthefoolman.com/2008/08/04/mike-arvin-used-car-video/feed/ 13 Tim http://timthefoolman.com/2008/08/03/camping-in-the-smokies-with-george-and-clem-guest-post/ http://timthefoolman.com/2008/08/03/camping-in-the-smokies-with-george-and-clem-guest-post/#comments Mon, 04 Aug 2008 01:56:00 +0000 TimTheFoolMan http://timthefoolman.wordpress.com/?p=600 ]]> [Ed Note: This is a guest post by a childhood best-friend of Clem. Any resemblance between Clem and the author of this blog is unavoidable.]

For a former Wyoming mountain and back-country guide, this is a story I wish I could forget.  It does, however, demonstrate that in the absence of technical expertise, passion and desire will press on…along with a few good memorable laughs.

Ramblin’

They were 18-20 years old when the Smokie Mountains called out to two good friends, George and Clem.  They fueled up the trusty 1968 AMC Rambler with no rear floor board and set off for Gatlinburg with some borrowed camping equipment.  They were stocked with food that seemed appropriate for a backpacking trip.  Neither had ever done a backpacking trip in the mountains before, but it shouldn’t be that complicated.

George was a country boy at heart who knew how to hunt and fish.  Clem was a city boy who was never afraid of a challenge especially when George said “Let’s go.”  So, together they went south and within six hours of high speed adventure in the the mighty Rambler, they found themselves on the famous Appalachian Trail.

The Hike

Now George had planned out a rather easy first day down the Appalachian Trail.  They would trek about five miles to a designated campsite along the trail in the Smokie Mountain National Park.  Anybody can go five miles, he thought.  George and Clem unloaded the Rambler of all the equipment they would need for the back-country experience.  Both of them felt strong and ready to face the wild.  After carefully balancing all the gear, they set out down the Appalachian Trail.  They were fully loaded backpackers.

After about a quarter mile, they stopped and made some adjustments to their loads, then started out again.  They were really beginning to work up a sweat as they carried their gear down the trail.  Soon they were simply thinking about taking that next step forward.  Suddenly, from behind, a man shouted “Passing on your right”.  This guy went by them like a sprinter.  He had a nice sleek backpack, with some nice boots and hiking shorts.  Soon after, another guy went by them and was similarly outfitted.  Clem and George looked at these sleek backpackers, looked at themselves, and could quickly see that these guys were outfitted quite differently than they were.

George was carrying an eight man heavy canvas tent with an old backpack loaded with food and large rolled cotton sleeping bags.  Clem had a long pole across his shoulders and behind his neck.  On one end was the long duffel bag of heavy gauge tent poles for the tent that George was carrying. On the other end of the pole was a large Coleman cooler which was loaded with canned goods, soft drinks, and large bags of Doritos corn chips.

Adding Fuel to the Fire

Somewhere in the midst of all of this was a large Coleman two burner camp stove with fuel.  Both were dressed in blue jeans, work boots, and layers of t’shirts and flannel.  As George and Clem walked down the trail with this load, they could be heard and seen for some distance.  Occasionally, Clem would have to turn sideways in the trail in order for his loaded pole to pass between trees in the forest.  Needless to say, that first sleek backpacker caught their attention.  The second one made it obvious to them that there was a better way to go backpacking in the Smokie Mountains.

After trudging along the Appalachian Trail for about a mile, fully loaded for car camping in the local state park, Clem and George decided that they needed to make a major adjustment to their load in order to make their destination before nightfall.  They found a very large tree just off the trail that served as a good landmark.  They then proceeded to bury the eight man tent and poles to reduce their load.  The last sleek backpacker mentioned that there was a nice shelter at the campsite to protect backpackers from the black bear in the area.  Therefore, they would not need the tent.  Even after dropping the tent and poles, the load to be distributed between George and Clem was enormous.  Clem still had the pole across his shoulders and George had stuff in each hand with gear tied all over his pack.

Making Camp

Finally, George and Clem arrived at the campsite.  The sun was setting and several other sleek backpackers had passed them.  Both arrived exhausted from the five mile trek and dropped their loads with a crashing and clanging of their gear.  They took up residence at a large downed tree which made for a nice place to sit and prepare dinner.  That’s when they started to notice some other great contrasts between them and the sleek backpackers.  You see, the sleek backpackers all had these tiny stoves and little packets of dehydrated meals.  They would just add boiling water to the packets and presto, a nice meal.

Clem and George didn’t care at this point, they were just starving.  They opened up their cooler and bags, had cokes, Doritos, beenie weenies, and could heat twice as much with that big Coleman camp stove.  It looked like they just drove up in their F250 King Cab and were having a tailgate party.  The sleek backpackers looked on with amazement. One said “are you hungry?”  Another said “Looks like you came well prepared.”  Clem and George didn’t care, they had made it to their first campsite along the Appalachian Trail in the Great Smokie Mountains.

Smokies and…

They slept well that night in the bear shelter with the other backpackers. The next morning, after some cold beenie weenies and Doritos for breakfast, they decided to modify their plans a bit.  The sleek backpackers had already loaded up their gear and left for their next campsite.  Clem and George decided to make this first campsite a sort of base camp.  They planned to go to the highest point along the Appalachian Trail which is Clingman’s Dome. George said “Let’s go with just water and some food to Clingman’s Dome, then come back to this campsite tonight.”  Clem quickly agreed and they left for Clingman’s Dome.

It was a beautiful day and the mountain views were spectacular.  They made it to Clingman’s Dome and went to the top of the tower to have lunch and enjoy the  view.  The road for tourists to Clingman’s Dome was closed, so only backpackers could enjoy the sight.  Clem and George were the only ones there so it was quiet and very peaceful up there.

…the Bear

After having some lunch, George was looking around and saw a black bear foraging around on the ground below.  There was a spiral walkway that leads to the tower platform.  George suggested to Clem that they go down the spiral walkway to get a closer look at the bear.  Once they got to the bottom, the bear had climbed into the bed of a ranger’s truck.  They had not seen a ranger, but some of the park personnel were working on the trail along the way there.  The bear was thrashing around in the bed of that truck and had gotten into some garbage bags.

Clem and George were a little nervous.  They couldn’t see the bear, but they sure could hear it.  George turned to Clem and said “Whatever you do, when that bear comes out of that truck, don’t run. We’ll just walk slowly back up this spiral walkway so we don’t excite the bear.”  Clem agreed with assurance because he thought “George must know since he’s the country boy and hunter.”  They were within 50 feet of the truck and ready to take a picture of the bear when it happened.  The bear looked over the tailgate of that truck, saw them, and lunged out with one leap.  It was coming toward them at full speed.  Clem quickly thought “George said Don’t Run.”

About the time he thought that, George went running past him up the spiral walkway.  Now Clem was facing the charging bear, so he turned and ran too.  The bear followed them up the walkway for about a third of the way, then turned and went back down.  Clem and George made it to the top thinking they would be facing an angry bear on that high platform with nowhere else to go. They were relieved to see the bear had given up the chase.  When their heartbeats slowed and the bear had left the area, they started back for base camp.

Meanwhile, Back at the Camp

George and Clem made it back to camp.  They had plenty of cokes and Doritos chips left.  The next day they made there way back to recover their buried tent and poles, then lugged all that gear back to trailhead.  The Rambler was a welcomed sight.  George and Clem rewarded themselves to a night in a hotel and a steak dinner.  They learned a lot on that trip and they laughed a lot about that trip for years.  Now that they were veteran backpackers, a year or so later, they took on the challenge of Long’s Peak in the Colorado Rocky Mountain National Park.  But, that’s another story in the adventures of George and Clem. – George

My oldest just finished his sophomore year of college, so it’s a bit early to be writing to him in anticipation of his collegiate graduation. My younger son is about to finish his junior year of high school, so it might seem a bit early for that too. Instead, I want to share something that I have already shared with both of my sons, and it’s something I wish someone had shared with me, long before graduation day. It’s called “What You’ll Wish You’d Known,” by Paul Graham. Enjoy.

Outside the courthouse, where satellite trucks lined the street, a man who said he was an FLDS father waved a photo of himself surrounded by his four children, ranging in age from an infant to about 9.

“Look, look, look,” the father said. “These children are all smiling, we’re happy.”

As I read this, my reaction was “I bet slave owners in the South said the same thing to people in the North.”

The events at the polygamist FLDS compound in West Texas have haunted me, and for several reasons. First, it haunts me that parents would allow their children to have their minds and hearts twisted the way that they have. However, I’ve also been haunted with questions about what Christians do that parallels some of the FLDS parents’ behavior in disturbing ways.

Forfeiting Your Right to Parent

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, a very close friend of mine has said, “Any man can be a father, but it takes something special to be a Dad.” The same, of course, is true for mothers and Moms. However, we also tend to view the maternal bond as being somehow superior to the natural paternal one. Perhaps its events like those at the FLDS compound; or the news of the Austrian who imprisoned his own daughter in a cellar, and forced her to bear his children; or any number of other instances of paternal cruelty; but the last people we expect to harm their children are their mothers, and some of the first we expect are their fathers.

A perfect example of this is found in a related article from ABC News:

“What Texas has done is barbaric,” said Richard Wexler, executive director of the National Coalition for Child Protection Reform. “The worst thing you can do to these children is separate them from their mothers.”

Without going to much into the doubts that I have about Wexler’s NCfCPR, I have to ask, is separating children from mothers who have, at the very least, tolerated and allowed abuse, the “worst thing you can do”? If someone were forcing your daughter to engage in sexual activity at 13 years of age, what would you not do to stop them? I don’t think I’m exaggerating to say that I would give my life before I would sit back and allow someone to do something like this to a child.

What then, of the mothers who did nothing? Are they not just as guilty of complicity in this crime? In the Commonwealth of Kentucky, if I become aware of a child living in an abusive situation and don’t report it, I am criminally liable for not doing so. In effect, Kentucky has said (rightly, I believe) that I am guilty of allowing the abuse to continue, and am therefore a party to the crime. Should we not hold the mothers to this same level of accountability? Should we instead excuse their behavior because they nursed the children as infants, or because they weren’t physically involved in molesting the underage girls?

The response, quite naturally, is that the FLDS church members are simply exercising their beliefs. They fully believe that it’s healthy for an underage child to engage in this kind of sexual activity with an adult. By extension, they clearly feel that the girls are capable of establishing healthy emotional relationships, with the men involved and with the children they bear.

This is where, as someone outside the FLDS Church, I look at such behavior with disgust and a powerful sense of moral outrage. Clearly (to me) these children aren’t capable of dealing with the complexities of such decisions that have been thrust upon them, both by peer pressure and through the powerful influence of the adults in their lives. Children of this age obviously do not understand the powerful emotions, or understand the subtle complexities of relationships. They obviously haven’t reached the age of… the age of…

…accountability?

The Age of Accountability?

For Christians, the phrase “age of accountability” is one that’s widely recognized. When we hear this, we instantly think of the controversy that springs up when a child walks forward in a church service to make a “profession of faith.” Depending on the church, this age will vary, but among Southern Baptists you’ll see children from age seven and up making decisions without an eyebrow in the congregation being raised.

“Seven?”, you may ask. Yes, seven. I was nine when I did so, which in some circles, seems to be rather late. I have been in churches where meetings were held to determine whether or not to accept, for membership, children as young as five or six. Many of my Christian friends have children at this age, and those children are asking questions about salvation and “a relationship with Jesus.” This is not at all surprising, and is in fact quite welcomed by virtually all Christian parents.

In the context of the FLDS story, does this sound strangely familiar to you? It does me, and that’s why it’s haunting.

What is it about a “spiritual relationship” that causes Christians like myself to think that a child of seven is capable of dealing with its emotional complexities? Why would children of that age be more capable of dealing with those complexities than those that spring from a sexual relationship with another person?

As Christians look at the FLDS Church with disdain and disgust, and consider the behavior of the parents to be abusive and manipulative, do we miss the potential for our own actions to be just as manipulative? Are we guilty of “spiritual abuse” by not teaching our children to search for truth, but also to teach them to wait for such a time that they’re ready to appreciate everything that spiritual relationships involve?

Perhaps the members of the FLDS Church are afraid that if the girls were older, that they might choose to not marry 49 year-old men. Perhaps they might not choose to engage in that kind of lifestyle at all. Perhaps they would choose to think for themselves, instead of just falling mindlessly into behaviors that are so easily encouraged when a child is so young.

Perhaps Christians (like myself) are guilty of the same thing with spiritual issues.

[Ed Note]

One of the automatically generated links below, FLDS: Big Hate-Big Brother, contains an interesting rant about the actions of Child Protective Services in Texas, and their intrusion upon the rights of the parents. The blog author has apparently decided that the following comment from me is not worthy of approval (they have approved at least one other comment since mine was posted):

Funnier still that there seems no contempt here for the middle-aged men guilty of statutory rape of teenage and possibly pre-teenage girls. And similarly funny that the mothers who sit by and allow it to happen are vindicated somehow by faith.

This hardly excuses inaction for other ills, but it seems a bit odd that the “epithet polygamists” would somehow suggest that we (a society) should tolerate some middle-aged man having intercourse with, and impregnating, a 13 year-old girl. I guess I’m weird, but that doesn’t sound like “tolerance” to me… that sounds like what happens when nobody in the family wants to speak up about “Uncle Frank” molesting his nieces.

Yes… all very funny. – Tim

My role as a parent is to make myself unnecessary.

Is that really my role? I have to admit, it’s hard for me to argue with that, even though my heart wishes it were otherwise. I certainly want my sons to continue to talk to me, but if I don’t teach them to operate in complete independence, am I crippling them for life? What will their lives be like when the day comes that I’m gone?

At the time of this writing, my oldest son is 20 years old, and my youngest is 17. If something were to happen to me today, both of them have enough basic life skills to survive in the society that exists today. In that regard, I could probably claim that my work, as a parent, is finished.

The Changing Parental Role

In truth, my role as an authoritative, instructional guide is nearing the end, but my role as a friend has already fully developed, and that will (hopefully) continue for the remainder of our lives. The role that is just beginning is just as important. I call this role “the peer-mentor.”

In this month’s Men’s Health magazine, an article on first-time experiences mentions the following:

The first time you see your father as a man, complete with flaws, unfulfilled dreams, and unchained lust. Your mission: Learn from him, but don’t repeat after him.

I’m not so sure about the “unchained lust” part, but the rest of it is right on. I can remember clearly the day that my annual salary passed my father’s, and in a way, it made me sad. It was the moment that I realized that it was just as likely for him to ask me for money, as for me to ask him. It was a moment of… equality, and not one that I had seen coming.

It’s Nice to be Needed, but Is It Good?

In Economics, there is a technical distinction between “needs” and “wants.” Things in the “needs” category would be food, water, and shelter. We talk about the “need” for a car, but the truth is, it’s only a “want” dressed up in “need” clothing.

One of the things I noticed about my own father, after I started to see him as another man, is that I wanted to know his opinion on things. I didn’t just tolerate his thoughts or commentary. I wanted to know his reaction to just about everything.

In most relationships, we seem to be drawn to feeling “necessary” to the other person. We ask, “will he/she miss me?” We wonder if our absence will cause a sense of emptiness in the life of our loved ones.

A Healthy Choice

In an unhealthy relationship, there is a sense of interdependence that causes each of the people involved to stop growing. Though this type of relationship is common, and generally seen as “successful,” it’s ultimately unhealthy because it doesn’t push the participants to grow beyond where they are today, and become something more tomorrow.

In contrast, a healthy relationship pushes each of the people involved to grow emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually. The best relationships are those where the parties live collaboratively, but aren’t interdependent. That is to say, where I do things for someone else because I choose to do so, not because they can’t do those things for themselves. Likewise, it’s entirely appropriate for me to enjoy someone else doing something for me because I want them to do so, as opposed to me needing them to do so. It’s a subtle, but important difference.

Perhaps then, my job as a parent might be better defined in this way:

My role as a parent is to make myself unneeded, but not unwanted.